Jeremy and I were settling into bed when my phone rang. It was Ava. My heart tightened, more slave work for me.
I answered, expecting her slurred voice, but it was her friend instead—breathless, panicked. Ava was drunk at the club, completely out of control, and they needed someone to pick her up. This was not the first time. Not the second. Not even the third. My mother-in-law had made it my permanent responsibility: whenever Ava drank herself senseless, I was the one to retrieve her like a runaway child.
"Leave it," Jeremy murmured from beside me. "Ava can take care of herself. Come back to bed."
I wished I could.
But if anything went wrong, even slightly, I would carry the entire blame. Mildred would make sure of that.
"I have to go," I told him quietly.
By the time I arrived at the club, Ava had already created a full-blown scene. I didn't know how it started, but knowing Ava, she was undoubtedly the cause. She screamed, cursed, shoved people—her friends struggling to hold her back. It took everything in me to drag her outside.
Getting her into the car was only the beginning.
Once inside, she exploded again—kicking the seat, slapping the window, ranting about nonsense.
"A car seat slapped me!" she shrieked through tears, like a deranged child talking to shadows.
I tried to calm her with a soft voice while keeping my eyes on the road. But between her screams and her thrashing, my concentration kept slipping.
And then it happened.
I glanced back for one second, one foolish second to check on her. When I looked forward again, bright headlights were coming directly toward us.
My heart jumped into my throat.
With every ounce of strength I gripped the steering wheel and swerved violently off the road. Tires screeched. Gravel spat beneath us. The car jerked to the side and finally slowed.
My breath came out in shaky bursts. Ava sat behind me, still muttering to the seat as if nothing had happened.
In the side mirror, I saw the other driver stop and step out of his car. He looked furious, walking straight toward us.
"Damn it," I whispered under my breath.
I rolled my window down halfway. Immediately, he recoiled, covering his nose—the heavy stench of alcohol pouring out from where Ava sat slumped.
"I'm so sorry," I told him before he could speak. "I almost caused a collision. It was my fault."
He accepted the apology, but then his eyes sharpened.
"You need to step out of the vehicle," he said sternly. "You're not fit to drive."
He thought I was the drunk one.
"No," I said firmly, glancing at Ava. "I can't leave the car."
He insisted. I refused again. It wasn't pride—I simply couldn't leave Ava alone or put myself at greater risk, not on a dark road with a stranger who already assumed the worst.
He didn't argue further.
Instead, he reached for his phone and dialed the police on the spot.
****
At the police station, they tested my breath over and over, three times, then four, searching for any trace of alcohol. Each test returned the same clean result.
"No matter how many times you do this, the answer won't change," I said, exhausted. "I already told you I wasn't driving under the influence."
The officer exhaled heavily, not out of frustration with me but with the situation.
"Then why didn't you just tell the young man who reported you?"
"I was scared," I admitted.
I turned slightly, looking at Ava stretched across the seats behind me, her body limp, her hair stuck to her sweaty face. She had no idea what she'd put me through.
The officer gave a small nod of understanding.
"You're free to go."
Relief washed over me. I thanked him quietly and began to rise from the chair, finally ready to leave this nightmare behind.
But the door opened just then, and another officer walked in, dragging a drunk man who was shouting at the top of his lungs. His voice echoed through the small station like a hammer slamming against metal.
Ava shot upright immediately, irritated.
"Can you shut up your mouth?" she barked. "You're being too loud, and I'm trying to sleep here!"
The drunk man shot back at once.
"You're loud too! Who do you think you are?"
Just like that, another fire ignited. I watched in dread as they lunged into a shouting match. I tried to pull Ava away, but she shoved my hands off, staggering forward like she wanted to strike him.
I had no idea what to do. Helplessness settled in my chest like a stone.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Jeremy.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
No answer.
The fight escalated. Ava swung her arm wildly, accidentally hitting a police officer who tried to intervene. Everything happened too fast, shouting, movement, handcuffs. And before I could breathe, Ava was on the floor of a holding cell, staring blankly at nothing.
"Ava…" I whispered, gripping the bars. She didn't respond. Just lay there, wasted and oblivious.
With no one else to turn to, I called Ms. Bang. I begged her—begged her not to tell my mother-in-law what had happened. A foolish hope. A desperate one.
She arrived not long after, a lawyer following closely behind her. Together they handled the matter quickly and quietly. Ava was released.
Outside the police station, I froze.
My mother-in-law.
Sitting in her car with the window down, her icy gaze cutting through the night. The moment I approached, she let loose.
"You worthless piece of trash!" Her words sliced straight through me.
"You can't get to me, so now you want to harm Ava? You couldn't even handle this on your own. You dragged my daughter to a police station!"
I said nothing. I stood there and absorbed every strike of her tongue like blows. I had learned long ago that answering would only make things worse.
"The only reason I haven't thrown you out of my house is because you're good to Jeremy and my Eden and because you can handle Ava. If I can't trust you to take care of them, then what use are you?"
I kept my eyes down, my hands clasped tightly so she wouldn't see them tremble.
When she was done, she ordered Ava into her car, and they drove off. Ava fell asleep before the car even turned onto the main road.
I stood there alone beneath the dim station lights. Tears pushed against the back of my eyes, but I forced them down. I had endured too much to break down in public.
I was instructed to bring Ava's car home. I walked toward it slowly, each step heavier than the last. Just as I reached for the door handle, a sudden wave of nausea swept over me, sharp and unexpected, rolling through my body like a warning.